Melodrama
by juulingloser
Summary: Malcolm hits a downward spiral and becomes a shell of himself while his family ignores his teenage melodrama. Reese takes notice of the changes and finds out that something horrible happened to his younger brother to cause the never ending turmoil in his mind. TW for self harm, suicidal ideation. Takes place during season 4. Het and slash. No wilkercest.
1. prologue: a late night mistake

**This fanfic takes place around the start of season 4. Some events that take place will be canon, but most will not be since that is the point of a fanfiction after all ]. This is NOT Wilkercest. I thought about it but I decided that it wouldn't go well with the subject matter**. **English is not my native language so I apologize if my grammar is bad. No flames please!**

.

Reese can't sleep, or rather, he's awaken at 3:45 A.M to faint sniffling sounds echoing throughout the shared bedroom. Except that _can't_ be it because the sounds were so soft he reckons he probably wouldn't be able to hear it the room wasn't dead with silence.

He assumes that it must be Dewey at first. after all he cries all the time, usually over something trivial like a lot of kids his age did or to get what he wants, not realizing that old trick doesn't work as well as it did when he was a toddler. He might've been almost 10, but that didn't stop him from behaving more like a 5-year-old sometimes.

However when Reese took a glance at the bed at the other side of the room, he notices that Dewey's fast asleep, which is actually a rarity for him. That meant that the feeble sobbing and whimpering that resembled that of a wounded dog had to be coming from _Malcolm_. Huh.

It's not that Reese is surprised at Malcolm crying. Quite the opposite. His entire first week of high school was quite the living hell, with embarrasment after embarrassment that Reese himself took time to laugh at and taunt his younger brother about whenever he got a chance, but he knows that if he had a week that was anywhere close to as bad as Malcolm's he would've snapped too. He was bound to let it out eventually.

If anything, he was surprised that he hadn't overheard him crying himself to sleep long before tonight. He spent the entire summer leading up to his freshman year wallowing in a bottomless pit of self-pity. (Or at least, that's what it looked like to the other Wilkersons.) He barely ate. He didn't shower (until Lois had enough of his stench and forced him into a bleach bath and made him stay in it for an hour.) Most days, he didn't even care to leave his bed. Something was definitely going on with him, but it was chalked up to the early stages of puberty and teenage melodrama. No one actually considered that there could be something more serious than what it appeared to be

Hearing him sobbing, tucked underneath his covers beyond midnight clearly hoping no one would hear him made a twinge of guilt surge inside of Reese. He knew that the reason that he was crying had to be bigger than being called "stain" and having him taunt him about it. Malcolm might've been more thin-skinned than he cared to let on, but he wouldn't cry over _that_. Still, Reese thinks that it couldn't have made matters better.

Today was a _particularly_ bad day for Malcolm. Not only did he have the previous humiliation still stuck in the forefront of his mind and everyone else's, but that same humiliation was what lead him to pull that stunt earlier where he had such a _bright_ and _foolproof_ idea to crash their father's car into their mother's car, and as such before he could even go through with it, he received one hell of a chewing out from a furious Lois.

.

"You were about to crash my car so that i would send you to _millitary_ _school_? You're lucky i don't send you to an early grave!" Malcolm immediately regretted explaining himself. It sounded a lot better in his head than it did explained out loud. Especially when he was explaining it to his mother.

Lois had been on the warpath ever since they left the school, and now that they were home, things were about to get worse.

The rest of the family could sense it too, since no one wanted to be within 50 feet of her when she inevitably exploded on Malcolm. That's why Reese and Dewey were outside occupying themselves with burning insects with magnifying glasses (while still being able to hear the entire argument) and Hal, while also just as angry with Malcolm as Lois was, paced throughout the kitchen and only spoke to co-sign his wife. No one wanted to make the situation any worse than it already was.

"My god, you're as dumb as Reese sometimes! What were you thinking? I'll tell you what, you weren't thinking!"

"You know what, maybe if you hadn't done this stupid volunteer thing and embarrased me every chance you got I wouldn't have even _thought_ about doing that!" Malcolm shouts back, the need to defend himself after being endlessly berated for hours upon hours coming to a boil.

"Oh, I _embarrased_ you? So that gives you the right to do what you did?" Lois scoffs and folds her arms.

"High school was the first chance I had to prove that I can be normal. That I'm not the weird little freak everyone treated me like in middle school. You ruined it! You ruined my chances of anyone even _daring_ to take me seriously. Now all everyone is going to see is that I'm a socially awkward creep with an overbearing mother and it's all thanks to _you_."

Lois rolls her eyes. "Yep, you got it. I ruin everything. The reason why those kids who didn't like you in the first place still don't like you is because of me. Never mind the fact that I do everything for you, feed you, clothe you, house you, bathe you even though you act like you're allergic to soap and water, take care of you when you're sick, buy you things that end up broken in a week because you're too reckless to take care of a goddamn dust mite for longer than an hour, and go above and beyond in my duty as a mother. Me embarrassing you in front of a bunch of shallow jerks who you don't even like anyway clearly makes me an unfit mother, isn't that right?"

As she continued to list off the things that she did that the boys took for granted, sarcasm dripping from her lips with every sentence, Malcolm just wanted to be put out of his misery. He _hated_ when his mother pulled the "look at everything I do for you!" card. Especially when most of the things she lists are her legal duty as a parent. Kind of hard to care about her feeding and clothing him when she'd be hauled off to prison if she didn't.

Amongst that, one particular part of her rant stood out like a sore thumb to him.

" Kids that didn't like me in the first place?" He parrots. "You don't know that. I could've made plenty of friends."

Lois almost laughs at this, as if she was _trying_ to be cruel. "Well, let's face it Malcolm, you're not really that much of a catch. You're arrogant, selfish, self-obsessed and pretentious. Also, you barely appreciate the friends you _do_ have. Those kids were going to feel the exact same way about you that they do now regardless of what I did because you're just not that pleasant of a person to be around."

Her words felt like a punch to the chest. It's not as if he hadn't been asking for it, yet and still, it stung to hear the cold hard truth (from your _mother_!) and wanting to despute it so badly and not being able to crushed what little fighting spirit he had left.

"Whatever, can you just ground me and get this over with? what is it, three months?" he shrugs, no longer having any energy to argue.

"It's until I feel like lifting your grounding. Could be a week from now, could be two years from now. Until I say you're no longer grounded, you are not allowed to go outside other than to go to school. You are not allowed to use the phone. No TV, No desserts, No comics, No reading at all unless it's for school. You will only leave your room if you need to leave the house, use the bathroom, do chores, or eat. Do I make myself clear?"

Malcolm nodded before trudging off to the bedroom in shame. The punishment didn't even phase him. Being told he couldn't leave his room, much less the house was more like a reward. He isolated himself anyway.

.

As Reese recalled the argument from earlier (or rather, what he could make out from it while he was eavesdropping) Malcolm's tears made a _little_ more sense to him. He was already not in the best of mindsets, and having his mother point out how unlikable he was, which seemed a bit unnecessary among the deserved scolding hurt his feelings.

At the same time, it's nowhere close to the worst thing Lois has said to him, or any of the boys. Hell, if she had said the same thing to Francis it'd be considered a pleasant conversation. The boys _themselves_ said worse things to each other on a daily basis.

Reese decided to stop thinking about it. After all, he _hated_ to think, and he was doing it willingly this time!

Malcolm was just weird. He's been weird ever since the start of the summer, and he was most likely going to continue to be weird. Whatever emotional, hormonal crap was happening with his younger brother was none of his business, and he wasn't going to involve himself. The little ingrate wouldn't even want him to.

So he wasn't.

-

**So this is the prologue chapter for MELODRAMA. I feel like this is horribly OOC [ But then again only 5 people still read MITM fic anyway so I hope you guys enjoy it. I just wanted to say once again that if my English is bad please let me know, and let me know what I can do to improve my characterization.**

**~JuulingLoser**


	2. One: Lover's Guilt

_08-27-2002_

_I think Reese heard me crying last night._ _I don't know how I know he did, I just have a feeling that he heard me. Or at the very least, is worried about me._

_For starters, he didn't wake me up the way he usually does: by punching me in the shoulder and calling me some colorful swear word combined with another swear word. It was his morning ritual._

_I'm being paranoid. That's all the proofI have after all, not to mention_ how_fucking mortifying it'd be for Reese of all people to hear me crying. He'd never let me hear the end of it.He'd probably wait for the perfect time to hold it over my head as blackmail that he heard me crying myself to sleep like a little bitch. Surprised he hasn't called me a pussy by now._

_He wouldn't be wrong. I am a pussy._

_I also didn't want to explain that I wasn't so much "crying" as I was having yet another late night panic attack. I thought that I was done having those, but apparently me having the worst week of my fucking life wasn't enough, but I had to have a nightmare about the worst day of my life and wake up crying in the middle of the night about it also. If God exists, he doesn't like me. That's for sure._

_Fuck it. If Reese or Dewey confront me about crying last night I'll just deny it or say that Mom hurt my feelings. It wasn't even a complete lie because she sort of did as embarassing as that is to admit._

_Speaking of mom she__ still refuses to speak to me. Which is fine, I don't want to speak to her either. I prefer that she completely ignores me instead of micromanaging me and nagging me 24/7. It's not going to last though. In about a week she'll be back to breathing down my neck and trying to control every facet of my life while not caring about how I feel and I'll be okay with it because it's what I'm used to._

_Still, It's a little weird that she keeps only calling for Dewey and Reese by name and pretending that I'm not there. Oh well. __Like I said, I wish she ignored me more often. Like the rest of the world does._

_\- M_

"What are you writing, buttmunch?" Reese asks before devouring another forkful of scrambled eggs. _So much for new-found sensitivity._

"Uh...Homework?" Malcolm lied, closing the bright yellow notebook and pushing it to the side. "I'm just finishing up my notes."

There was no way in hell that he'd even think to tell Reese, or anyone about his journaling. Not only would having a journal in the first place make him subject for judgement for "having a diary" but the risk of someone reading his innermost thoughts and seeing him at his rawest, most bare form, learning about things he hadn't told a soul? Enough to make a pre-emptive wave of nausea overtake him.

Besides, He might've had no privacy, but nobody in that dump he called a home would've looked through his notebooks. That's all it was to anyone else. Just another school notebook.

Reese accepted the answer and continued eating; the table went mostly silent with the exception of the sounde of chewing teeth and clattering cutlery.

"You're doing homework during breakfast?" Dewey questions, long after the subject fades much to Malcolm's chagrin.

"Yes?" he responds with a tint of annoyance in his tone. Dewey didn't seem to buy it, flashing Malcolm a skeptical look before continuing to eat.

_No more writing at the kitchen table,_ he thinks, a twinge of anxiousness hitting him at the sudden curiosity over his journal. He sighs and finishes his meal, reaching his fork over to the center plate where one last pancake sat

Of course, Reese wants the last pancake too, the two of them extending their forks out onto the plate at almost the same moment to scoop up the remaining flapjack.

"C'mon, you saw me going for it first! You always do this!" Reese whines.

Malcolm simply shrugs and withdraws his fork. "Fine, it's yours" he mumbles taking another swig of orange juice before getting up and taking his empty plate to the sink.

Reese is a little stunned at how quickly Malcolm gave up. Usually when it came to things like this, he still lost, but he put up one hell of a fight for his few extra bites. It almost makes Reese feel a little guilty for how Malcolm surrendered the pancake to him in mere seconds.

_Oh well. I'm not going to complain about extra food,_ Reese thinks. Nevertheless, this was still going into his mental file of "Reasons Malcolm might not be okay". Just on principal alone.

"Hey! Dewey, Reese, what's-his-face, let's get a move on, you're running late for school!" Lois' shrill barking invades his thoughts (which he was silently thankful for.)

Malcolm can't help but to roll his eyes at the sly dig his mother takes at him. "That's real mature mom," he mumbles before returning to the table and sliding his journal into his backpack.

His school day was just as miserable as all of the other ones had been. It turns out, the cred he got for presumably having sex with Cynthia was immediately revoked by the image of his mother yanking him out of the car and telling him off in front of everyone.

Speaking of Cynthia, he had been meaning to thank her for attempting to save his ass even if it immediately backfired. He doesn't understand why she would do that considering it tanked _her_ reputation in the process, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

Unfortunately for him, Cynthia's nowhere to be found today. He assumes at first that she decided to stay home to avoid the backlash and the cries of 'slut' and 'whore' being thrown her way, but then he remembers that she wouldn't give two fucks.

A quality that he envied for sure.

"Hey, have any of you seen Cynthia today?" Malcolm asks the rest of his friends as he sits the styrofoam lunch tray onto the table and joins them.

"Did you guys really have sex?" Dabney interjects with a question of his own. "That's kinda hot. I mean, I'm not saying _you're_ hot because that'd be weird but what I'm really saying is that I'm jealous. I don't mean I'm jealous of you because Cynthia's your girl and all but I'm jealous of her not you, wait- no!"

"We didn't have sex!" Malcolm shouts. "Cynthia and I have never done anything sexual. The closest we've come was almost kissing _once_. In seventh grade. Now can somebody tell me where she is?"

The other boys note how aggressive he is for someone who claims not to have any feelings for Cynthia, but don't say anything else on that note.

"She...changed schools," Stevie wheezes out an answer, foolishly thinking that it'd shut Malcolm up. It didn't.

Instead, the mild irritation turns to obvious sadness at the news. "What?" Malcolm lowers his voice, "you can't be serious."

"Her dad...took her out. It was...because...he heard you had sex," Stevie continues explaining. Each word made another crack form in Malcolm"s heart, and as he scanned the faces of his friends for any indication that they're playing a cruel prank on him to get him to admit that he really does love Cynthia (because that's something they'd totally do) he could feel another piece of his heart breaking away.

"That's not true," he protests, his voice soft but firm and stubborn. "She can't be gone. How do you guys even know?"

Lloyd breaks his silence. "She told us and told us to tell you. She didn't want to tell you herself because she was afraid you'd be mad at her."

Truth is, Malcolm _is_ mad. Not at Cynthia of course, she sacrificed herself to make him happy and it didn't work out in the end. No, he's angry with himself. It's his fault after all. If he would've only taken her advice and stopped caring what others thought, the events that lead to her being whisked away wouldn't have taken place. She'd still be here, probably telling one of her wacky stories while Malcolm pretended not to be interested in it all the while secretly hanging onto every word she said.

Suddenly his appetite was gone. How could he possibly keep his lunch down when pangs of guilt twisted his stomach into knots?

"Are you...okay?" Stevie finally asks, his friends drastic mood change upon hearing the news worrying him.

"I'm fine, Stevie." Malcolm deadpans. He doesn't even bother to sound or look convincing as he keeps his gaze fixed towards the ground. In all honesty, he looks like he's one second away from a full on breakdown

"I know you...really liked her..."

"I didn't like her." he raises his voice a little before backtracking "Sorry. I'm just not hungry anymore."

Malcolm wasn't expecting today to be any better than yesterday, or any of the days he had before it, but he surely wasn't expecting to lose Cynthia.

He still expected the three of them to tell him that it was some sort of joke and that she was just at home sick, but it was pass the point where it'd be funny by now.

He has to face the facts. Cynthia is gone forever, and like many other things, it's his fault.


	3. Two: A Brother's Instinct

_29-08-2002 _

_Day three without Cynthia and I'm still holding out hope that this is indeed an elaborate joke to get me to admit to having feelings for her__ which I DON'T HAVE by the way. I don't even miss her, I just wanted to thank her for trying to save my ass because it's the least I can do._

_You know what? There's no point in being dishonest with myself when I'm the only one who's going to see this so fine. I'm in love with her. I've been in love with her for the entire two fucking years that we've known each other. She annoys me, sure, but I fucking love it. __She's one of a kind and there will never be another girl like her. Never. I should've sucked it up and quit being a pussy and confessed to her a long time ago but I would've ruined it somehow by saying something stupid_. _Of course I would've._

_It hasn't even been a week and yet I miss her so fucking much. My heart genuinely feels broken even though we weren't dating and I would rather die than admit I have feelings for her. It feels worse than my breakup with Sarah and this isn't even a breakup; she's just gone._

_Truth be told she was the only one who made school bearable for me. __I want to hear her tell me one of her awkward jokes and act like it's the funniest thing she's ever said. I want her to threaten to kick my ass because she's obviously and extremely capable of it. I just want to talk to her and hold her hand and maybe kiss her if I'm lucky. It's the least I could get. I love her. I love her so much._

_I know I'll get over it but it hurts now. This is so unfair._

_Wow. I just wrote this and I'm already so embarassed with myself. "I just want to talk to her and hold her hand?" Desperate much_ _Malcolm? I should rip this page up and throw it away when I finish. If I read this again I might puke_ _all over the pages._

_I am the most pathetic person on earth. _

_At least this confirms that I'm not gay...I __hope_

_\- M_

It turns out that being grounded while already dwelling on something awful made Malcolm dwell on it even more.

He has nothing to distract him from his hurt since Lois forbade him from doing just about everything besides breathing. He's left with no choice but to think and stew in his own self pity.

Also write. He does nothing but write these days, his journal as embarrasing as half of the things inside of it were, was his only outlet to get _some_ relief from what he was feeling inside. He had another form of coping with his emotions, but he has sworn it off since he almost got caught in the act not too long ago. Dumbly forgetting to lock the bathroom door before he did it causing Dewey to walk in on him nearly seeing him take a razor to his skin.

To be honest, his penchant for wearing a longer sleeved layer over his shirts helped hide the fact, along with the fact that he moved his area of preference to his thighs since he thought that doing it on his wrists was too obvious, and a bit cliché in his opinion. It didn't matter regardless though, because he swore to himself that he'd quit after coming too close to being caught.

He'd be lying if he says he doesn't still get the urge to. Especially since he hasn't even gone very long without it. He decided that it wasn't worth potentially being caught, and the payoff wasn't that rewarding to begin with. All he got left with in the end was dumb scars on his wrists and legs to match his traumatic inner scars.

He's self aware enough to know that it's a bad coping mechanism but not strong enough to stop, or at least stop getting urges to do so.

With his journal now pushed to the side, he tries to think of something else to do because he's already written all that's on his mind for the day, and he decides that the best way to get over Cynthia is to stop thinking about her and move on. The thought that they'll meet again is uncharcteristically optimistic for Malcolm to have but it was comforting. Which was all he really needed.

He picks up a light plastic ball from the ground and begins tossing it at the wall. He keeps on like this for about 20 minutes. No reasoning to it, Just trying to occupy himself through his boredom and melancholy.

He's stopped in his tracks when Reese enters their shared bedroom carrying an entire pack of toilet paper rolls that he most likely shoplifted. "Hey, wanna go TP every red car we see?" He offers.

"I'm grounded, Reese."

Reese frowns. "Like that ever stopped you before. C'mon, I miss when we used to terrorize the neighborhood together. It's no fun doing it alone."

"Then go get Dewey to help. I can't, I'm grounded and I don't feel like pissing mom off any more than I already have," Malcolm states.

"You know, I also miss you before you started this depressed thing. I don't know what happened to you this summer that turned you into such a downer but..." Reese trails off after he notices the shift from apathy to anger in his younger brother's eyes. He already regretted going _there_ just from his reaction.

"I'm not fucking depressed and nothing happened to me." Malcolm growled.

Something, _something_ about the phrasing of what Reese said. His words about something _happening_ to him triggered a reaction inside of him. He knew it was unintentional because Reese, like everyone else, _didn't_ know what caused this sudden shift in his personality, so he calms himself down.

"Just leave me alone. Go do what you were doing before you decided to bother me," He softens his tone while still seeming annoyed enough to let Reese know that his prying wasn't welcome.

"Fine."

With that Reese left the bedroom and slammed the door behind him before going about his plans on his own. If Malcolm wants to wallow in his own self pity that's his own problem.

Knowing him, he was probably sulking over something that wasn't a big deal to anyone but him because his ego was slightly bruised. Maybe it isn't fair to dismiss his problems as petty insecurities, but the way he snapped on Reese who was only trying to cheer him up and be nice instead of taunting him as usual made him lose all desire to figure out what was wrong with his little brother. All he knows is that something definitely _is_ wrong.

So, he was bullshitting. He still has the questions lingering in his mind even while he was on his path of mindless destruction and vandalism for the day and he hates it. He hates how Malcolm and his touchy-feely overly emotional bullshit has festered for so long that it was starting to affect him as well.

Does he..._care_? Does he care that Malcolm was seemingly at the lowest point he's ever seen him hit? Or is it that he is tired of listening to him bitch all day and cry all night and wanted to fix it so that he'll shut the fuck up and go back to normal already.

[Not that he was a very happy or positive person to start with.]

It's the second option of course. Reese could live with that. _Of course he doesn't care._

Now, came the second part; figuring out what's wrong with him. Reese could barely figure out what he himself was feeling most of the time, now he had to try to analyze Malcolm's feelings too.

Yeah, he isn't going to do that. Too much work for something that he apparently does not give a shit about.

.

"You covered a police car in _toilet paper_!?" Lois' ranting and raving could be heard all throughout the home as she scolded Reese for his chosen act of delinquency.

"At least I didn't egg one like last time!" Reese protests unsuccessfully, his mother's iron clad grip on his forearm caused him to slightly wince at the pain.

Lois, of course, doesn't budge and keeps listing off the various conditions of his month long grounding as she marched him off to his room.

"You are not to leave your room unless you are dying, hungry, or about to soil yourself. Don't even think about leaving the house. Lucky I don't keep you in a cage," Her words were bitter, angry, and above all exhausted, as if the combined antics of her sons were going to give her an ill-timed heart attack. Reese wanted to defend himself some more, but he at least knew he'd end up making his punishment even worse.

Meanwhile Malcolm is still laying in the same spot he was when Reese first left, also confined to the bedroom since he was still grounded. He was actually pretty annoyed that Reese is grounded now too because at least the grounding gave him the alone time he so desperately craved. Being trapped in his bedroom with bonehead Reese who already asked too many questions wasn't good.

"Were you fucking crying again?" Reese so _tactfully_ asking one too many questions once again.

"What? I'm not crying," Malcolm's puffy eyelids and voice crack immediately betrays him.

Reese has a reply on the tip of his tongue, where he was about to call out that he is too crying, and that he hears him crying himself to sleep at night as well. He keeps it to himself and settles for an insincere, "Okay."

"What do you mean again? I don't cry that much. Or at all."

Reese doesn't even respond, he lets the short lived conversation die out. Once again, it feels cruel to remind him that he cries every night likely under the assumption that no one could hear him.

He had to remember that he doesn't care

Except he really does, but that didn't need to be acknowledged.

The room fell awkwardly silent, the two brothers not acknowledging each other or the elephant in the room in the form of Malcolm's mental state. They're going to have to talk about it sometime, and they both know it, but it wasn't going to be any time soon if it could be helped.


End file.
